


Our Eden

by twowritehands



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Complete, M/M, Soul Bond, Soulmates, War in Heaven (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21617539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twowritehands/pseuds/twowritehands
Summary: Soulmate AU.Due to an unusual war injury, Aziraphale can never know the name of his soulmate. That hardly stops him from finding out who it is, and doing something about it--at any cost.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 130





	1. Chapter 1

On the battlefields of Heaven, Aziraphale topped an ashy, debris-strewn hill and took cover in the ruins of a monolithic castle. The rebels had retreated. He was on patrol and all was quiet on the front.

"All's clear, sir," Aziraphale reported.

Gabriel swooped in for a landing along with a legion of about 50 soldiers. As usual, the archangel was handsome and sharp in his commander's uniform and golden armor. His purple eyes blazed with authority. 

"Alright, troops, listen up! Word is the rebels are organizing to come back this way. Best to be prepared. So eat up and rest while you can. We must continue to _hold this line_. It'll be a long night."

Fear gripped Aziraphale. He had already seen several battles by this point. He did not like it. The chaos. The fear. The destruction. He rather hated it. In fact, he dreaded it to the very core of his being.

But God said to fight so, what was one to do but fight?

The alternative was to see the Almighty dethroned and smarmy Lucifer put in charge. Ha. No thank you.

Weary, the other angels settled into the ruins with Aziraphale to eat and rest. No surprise, Gabriel and his attendants pitched a huge tent nearby with more than the usual luxuries.

Aziraphale sheathed his sword and planted his shield in the dirt. He sat down--neatly making sure his kilt revealed nothing untoward--and unstrapped his helmet. He knew better than to remove it, but this way at least the strap wouldn't be cutting into his chin as he chewed.

Digging around in the many pockets of his fatigues, he set to making himself a meal. He didn't have much to work with. And he was almost too exhausted to bother with all the velcro flaps of his pockets.

The golden armor strapped to him over top his fatigues was both cumbersome and heavy. Unused to flying with such weight, Aziraphale's wings ached even more than his arms did from wielding the sword and shield.

"So," a nearby principality asked his friend. "What do you think of the latest Decree from On High, then?"

The other angel scoffed. "It's fake news if you ask me. Just meant to distract us from the fact that The Morning Star and his rebels are not as easy to squash as was promised."

"Hush up, you," a third reprimanded in near panicked tones. For good reason, as the second angel had tiptoed uncomfortably close to blasphemy in the same tune as the Rebels.

"What new decree?" Aziraphale asked.

"You haven't heard?" they asked him in bemusement. Aziraphale bashfully avoided explaining about how he'd given away his battlefield radio to a fellow angel in need.

"No," he said, simply.

"Well, apparently, It Is Said that all in creation now have true mates. Soulmates, it's called. We pair up based on it."

Intrigued, Aziraphale frowned. "Pair up for what?"

They shrugged, "For good."

"I see." Aziraphale smiled. He rather liked the sound of it. Soulmates. How lovely. "So how are we to know our mates, then? Is it all written down somewhere?"

"Actually, yes. The true name of our mates have been inscribed on the inside of each of our halos."

Aziraphale beamed and excitedly removed his helmet. His halo was smug down around his ears. Due to the urgency of War, he hadn't had it off for a good polish in weeks. As he attempted to slide it up out of the sweaty tangle of his white curls, the bomb hit.

***

Waking in a heavenly hospital some weeks later, Aziraphale was told three things. 1. He was lucky to be alive. 2. The war was over. And 3. His halo had been destroyed.

Heaven was already rebuilt and aside from a few plaques here and there commemorating those who had died in battle, there was no sign of the extensive destruction that Aziraphale had witnessed with his own eyes. Everything was back to the way it was. (Minus the general tension in the air from political unrest and the rebels who had instigated it, now collectively known as The Fallen.)

Another new thing was the now commonplace sight of paired mates going about together. The Soulmates shtick had really gained some speed in the weeks Aziraphale had been in a coma. It had done wonders to bolster public morale during the Reconstruction, and it was all the rage.

For those with halos, anyway.

Aziraphale got a lot of funny looks as an angel without a halo. It was a rather unusual war injury, and he had to tell the story of how he lost it quite often. Most people said the same thing,

“So it’s up to your Mate to find you, then.”

Yes, it was. And he could hardly wait. Who would it be? He wanted someone passionate, if he was honest. Yes, angels were supposed to love unconditionally, and technically he would, but Aziraphale did have standards. 

Weeks after his release from the hospital, Aziraphale sat at his cubicle, too depressed to process the stacks of files around him. It all had to do with the newest initiative called The Great Plan which was due to launch very soon. But not even the threat of a deadline could push him from the doldrums he’d landed in.

What was taking his mate so long to hunt him down? There weren’t that many angels named Aziraphale, were there? 

He looked out the office window. He could see so many couples walking hand in hand. Some of them were laughing. Others were kissing. Some were even arguing, but even then they were flying together with their wings in perfect sync.

What kind of couple would they be?

There was a new clock tower in the distance. It had become known as a romantic spot for couples to meet. When would he finally get to go there? And what might they do once they made it to the top?

The longer he stared at the view, the more he saw the old skyline and how it had been destroyed by the fires of war. He could still hear the echo of bombs and screams.

“Aziraphale,” Michael said, startling him out of the past.

The archangel stood at his desk with her phone in hand. She barely looked up from the haze of data whizzing across the screen. “Have you completed the nebulas yet?”

He’d been assigned to oversee the Nebulas on his first day back--in addition to his usual work. “Er, no. Afraid not yet. I’m still cataloguing the flora and fauna of the--”

“The nebula deadline is before any of that! I thought I made it clear that you are to complete the Fallen’s quotas first.”

“Is anyone else working on the Fallen’s quotas?”

This made her look up from the phone, and Aziraphale wished he had not said anything.

“Everyone is doing their part, Aziraphale,” she said cooly, “Except for you.”

He gulped. “I shall get right on it. You’ll have the Nebulas by six.”

She vanished. Aziraphale opened the thickest file labeled The Grand Nebula. The initial blueprints were breathtaking. This had been the work of a rebel? It was too complex and detailed to belong to someone who didn’t like their job. This was a swan song if there ever was one.

His eyes pricked and he cleared his throat. Had the designer somehow known that this would be their last good work?

There was a subsection entitled The Pillars of Destruction. When Aziraphale read this, he actually burst into tears. It was so poetic--almost as if the artist had elected to fall in order to give this piece life.


	2. Chapter 2

Aziraphale winged into his office building ten minutes late and got a sharp look from Michael as he unloaded the late nebula work into her hands. Aziraphale had stayed up late making sure to do those original blueprints justice. But Michael didn’t even open the file before dumping it on a cart and handing him a new stack.

“These are already overdue. If you don’t complete them today, Lord have Mercy on--”

A celestial chime from the phone in Micheal’s hand interrupted her. At the same moment, a messenger angel appeared at Aziraphale’s side with a golden scroll. “Exceptional work on that nebula, Aziraphale! She says it is Good.”

Warmth and satisfaction permeated Aziraphale’s body. He blushed. “I only built it. It wasn’t my design.”

“Yes, well, there are ten more designs you have to build today. Get to work.” Michael said, dismissing him.

Aziraphale went to his desk and pinned up the accommodation from on high. This sort of thing needed to be celebrated with loved ones. Just the thought made his heart ache and he looked back out the window as if he might see someone flying full tilt right at him with breathless rambling about how they could be _so late_.

He leaned back and looked at a print of the nebula, and his award for it. All at once, he slapped his knees. He couldn’t live like this anymore, left in the dark, wondering and waiting.

So he put in a formal request to head office explaining about the loss of his halo in the war and inquiring if he might be given the name of his one true mate via post. 

He still awaited an answer.

Meanwhile, the Lord's latest creation was finally ready. She had been working on it for some time. In fact, it was the amount of attention She had afforded this particular project which had sparked the embers that had blazed into the inferno of war.

Or so the radical papers had been saying. But those didn't exist anymore. 

What existed now was Mankind and a place called Earth and a paradise called Eden. All of it was quite similar to heaven, only better, and was to be the canvas for a new and exciting thing called Free Will. Apparently, this Free Will was going to do wonders to prove the Grace of God.

Sounded exciting.

When Aziraphale got word back regarding his official request, the scroll was thin and the missive short. Report to Headquarters for further discussion.

Doing as bid, because what else did an angel do, Aziraphale collected his thoughts and arranged his speech for why he should be told the name of his mate. It was what was fair, wasn't it? Everyone else got a mate. Why should he--and one other angel--suffer because of a single shattered halo?

It's not like he shattered it on purpose. There had been a war on, for God's Sake.

 _Literally_ for God's Sake.

Aziraphale knew he'd talk to a higher authority, but he never ever expected to go to the very Top. But he was taken straight to the throne room. To the Almighty Herself. He went to his knees and tried to remember his courtly manners, stumbling over the proper addresses, and he couldn't remember--was it pronounced ma'am as in ham or ma'am as is palm?

"You don't have a mate, Aziraphale," God said, right off the bat.

It winded him. His loving and nervous smile dropped. He felt sick. He forgot all decorum and outright asked, "What? Why not?"

God put on her reading glasses and had a look at a scroll handed to her by a seraphim with six wings. "Because, according to my records, your mate has Fallen."

"Oh," Aziraphale felt crushed. He felt so very heavy with disappointment and sadness and loss. "Oh, dear."

That certainly explained why his Mate never contacted him. All the Fallen had ceremoniously shattered their haloes at the start of the war--before the memo about soulmates.

"It is peculiar," God peered at him from over her glasses. She, of course, didn't need the glasses. She just knew She looked good in them. Which She did. "Of all my soulmate Pairings, all of them consist of either two of my angels or two of Lucifer's rebels. All of them but one. One single pair out of thousands. And that was yours. One angel fighting for me. And one angel fighting for Lucifer."

"Oh, oh my, how… how dreadful…"

"You're halo was shattered. You weren't--secretly--sympathetic to the rebel cause were you, Aziraphale?"

Fear sliced through him and he was quick to cry, "No! Never! My halo was broken by accident! I serve you, my lord, I always have. I always shall. I promise!"

God gave him a reassuring smile. "As I already know, Azirapahle. Hmm…. Perhaps humans will have a better ear for my jokes…" She seemed to be speaking to Herself more than him. She snapped out of Her pensive tangent. "Anyway, I'm sorry, Aziraphale. But it just didn't work out for you."

"Wait just a minute!" he cried, outraged. "You are omnipotent! Couldn't you--oh, isn't there _something_ that you can do?"

"No. Listen, this Soulmates thing wasn't a new idea I pulled out of a hat on a whim, you know. It had been workshopped in the early stages of my angel design. The coding was all put there inside each of you. I made you all with your mates specifically in mind. But then I scrapped the idea at the last minute, for my own personal reasons that I shan't go into now. But then the war happened and I thought, well maybe the mates thing was for the best after all. I thought maybe what had caused the war was having built you for one another but then keeping you apart. So I flipped the switch and activated the coding. And…. Well. As I said, everyone else was on the same side as their mates. It's quite unique and fascinating that your mate was on the other side. But ah well. It is what it is. Your mate is gone. Best to think of him as dead, rather than burning."

"Him? So--so my mate is a he, then? Oh, couldn't you tell me more? What was his name?"

"I have told you enough," God snapped. "More than you need to know, certainly. You may go."

***

Aziraphale spent weeks crying. His poor mate! Whatever had he been thinking of? Consorting with those ghastly rebels? Oh, poor thing! Was he alright? One heard such terrible things about the fiery lake. The pit. The inferno.

Damnation.

The ring of the word was epic and beautiful in a tragic kind of way.

And what really clipped Aziraphale's wings was the thought that he was the only lonely angel in heaven while his mate was the only lonely demon in hell.

One morning, after weeks of torturing himself, Aziraphale marched right back to headquarters and demanded to have an audience with God.

"Aziraphale, you have not been well." God said in greeting.

"No, I have been heartbroken."

"Understandably. Why are you here?"

"You said You made me for him," Aziraphale said. "Yet I am forced to an eternity without him."

"And it is a burden you will have to bear. Such is the ugly face of War. Write books about it, Aziraphale. Let the public know how robbed you are because of one angel's Pride."

Aziraphale bowed his head, bashfully. He had actually already begun typing away at his old typewriter. He cleared his throat. "Actually, I believe I can do more than write about my pain. I believe I can end it."

"Suicide? Are you asking my permission to die?"

"Not at all. I am asking you to let me try to save him."

The throne room went dead quiet. If a pin dropped, it would sound like the bomb that had shattered his halo.

God stared at him. Possibly in shock. (Shocking the creator of all things was rather hard to do. But it had been done.)

Aziraphale stepped forward, speaking quickly and in earnest. "Send me to wherever he is. I will use the love you gave me," he put a hand on his heart, "to save him."

"You would go to Hell.... On purpose?"

Azirapahle blushed. "If that is where he is, then yes. But… but one does hear that demons aren't staying in Hell these days. So… so I thought maybe he would venture out and wherever he goes, I would follow. I would reason with him and show him Your infinite grace through countless every day little actions of kindness and forgiveness and, and, and maybe we can _get him back_."

God was silent for a long time and then she lifted a hand. "So be it. Dedicate your time to saving your mate, Azirapahle. At whatever the cost."


	3. Chapter 3

Aziraphale carefully took down the nebulas print and the accommodation as he packed up his desk. Someone loomed over the cubicle wall with a large, cheesy smile.

Aziraphale pasted a friendly smile over his annoyance. “Gabriel. Hello.”

“Heard you got the garden job.”

“Yes. It was rather a surprise.”

“Not really, when you think about it.”

“No?”

“Well, it was supposed to be me. I led the most successful garrison in the entire war. But what better way to make head office look good than by giving the job to someone like you.”

“Like me?”

“Yeah. Y’know. Crippled. Handicapped. Whatever.”

“I don’t know that missing a halo constitutes...” he shook his head, thinking of the poor angels in the hospital with him, who could never fly again.

“Well, you didn’t only lose the halo, though, right? I mean, your whole other half is burning for eternity in the pit. That’s pretty intense.”

Aziraphale was careful not to say another word. Maybe the Almighty didn’t want it spread around that his mate’s damnation wasn’t going to be permanent. He took a deep breath, too. If Gabriel said another word about his mate in that glib tone, he was getting a miracled foot up his ass.

He went to the elevator and saw a new button on the panel. EDEN. He smiled, pressed it, and quiet suddenly was in the Garden on apple tree duty.

And there _he_ was. His mate. 

It was definitely his mate. Aziraphale could feel it. Though they stood apart as individuals, Love bound them together as surely as gravity and heat pushed two opposing protons together in the heart of a star, turning them into a packet of energy called a photon. Light. Together he and his mate could make something as fast and powerful as light. Oh, what marvels. What glory.

If just _looking_ at him felt like this…

Oh, dear. This was going to be terrifying, wasn't it?

Aziraphale's mate was a snake, but that hardly mattered. To Azirapahle, his mate was beautiful no matter the form. Then his mate became a man. A rather handsome man.

Aziraphale cleared his throat.

Whirling, the demon looked for a moment afraid but then cooly amused. 

"Who let you into the garden, fiend?" Aziraphale asked, hoping he sounded authoritative and suspecting he just missed the mark.

"No worries, angel," he drawled in a voice like sin. "Just took a wrong turning. I'll be on my way."

"Right," Aziraphale enunciated. He eyed the demon suspiciously. "You haven't touched anything have you?"

A malicious grin curled those sweet lips. "Naaah. Wouldn't dream of it."

A lie, told with such charm. Oh this was going to be fun.

The demon eyed him now with obvious interest. Could he feel what Aziraphale felt? That they belonged together? That they were halves of the same whole?

Perhaps, to him, it was nothing more than a puzzling intrigue. He had smashed his halo before--as God had put it--the switch got flipped. He wouldn't have had a chance to see Aziraphale's name in his halo anymore than Aziraphale had gotten to see his.

A beat passed and then five more just like it. They just stood there, kind of grinning at one another. It was lovely.

Aziraphale wanted so badly to close his wings around his mate and kiss away the pain of damnation, but he already knew it wouldn't be that easy. He had worked out a plan. A slow process that would later be called Pavlovian Conditioning. He would gain this demon's trust. Then, through positive reinforcement, cultivate the fruits of God in his rebel, snakey heart.

And then they would be proper mates living in the grace of God's love.

It was going to take a while. Several thousands of years, likely.

Unsheathing his flaming sword, Aziraphale waved the fiery weapon at the demon. "Away, foul fiend!"

Grinning, the demon winked quite sexily and morphed into serpent form before he disappeared swiftly into the lush foliage.

Aziraphale watched him go, and smiled.

***

Later that day on the wall, Crowley returned to him. Aziraphale knew he would. 

When the demon questioned The Plan, he showed a quick and intelligent mind. And also no small amount of worry that he was somehow playing right into the plans of heaven. 

Well, of course he was. They all were. That was how it worked. 

But rather than Go There, Aziraphale insisted it was best not to speculate and played the part of an angel in need of a friend.

He suspected no mate could resist meeting the need of another mate. And he was right. (This fact would later work against him as often as it worked to his favor, but he hadn't yet realized this yet.)

When Aziraphale explained to Crawly about giving away his sword, he knew in the devilish grin on that face that he had already begun to win him over. Of course a demon would like the idea of an angel that didn't follow all the rules to the letter. That was why Aziraphale had done it. God had said, _save your mate at any cost_ , right?

When the rain began, it was a natural reflex to protect Crawly by offering him shelter under a mighty white wing. When Crawly stepped in close, their eyes met. Heat zinged between them. A primal attraction as encoded in their fleshy bodies as it had been in their celestial ones surged within both of them.

Where before there had been the beastly rage in Crawly's snake eyes, there was now--already--the soft gratitude of a lonely soul.

It was just the beginning, but Aziraphale knew his battle was already won. Time would do the rest.

***

Oysters in Rome was, in a word, interesting. Crowley's way of slurping was altogether unfair. So beautifully unfair.

"How's the pit, then?" Aziraphale asked.

"Pity-er than usual. Heaven?"

"Sparkly."

Crowley snort-giggled into his wine and reached for another oyster. Then he seemed to remember something all at once and leveled an accusatory look on Aziraphale. "And what's this bullocks we're hearing about Soulmates being a thing up in heaven these days?"

Aziraphale swallowed the salty slimy wad of oyster and slowly placed his empty shell in the discard pile. "Ah, yes. Soulmates. Apparently it was an original aspect of our design. The Almighty got in the mood to blow the dust off and give it a whirl, as it were. And here we are."

Crowley sneered. "True mates. If there was ever a sensationalized marketing move more pretentious than that."

"Excuse me, it's actually lovely!" Aziraphale defended. "It's companionship, a sense of belonging. Apparently, when true mates meet up, they speak one another's names and--and there's the Bonding. Two hearts made into one. Two minds linked. It's said to be truly awesome."

Crowley's frown deepened. "Sounds awful. Hold on-- _apparently_ ? _It is said to be_? Why hasn't your mate done this awesome bond thingy with you yet?"

Aziraphale blushed.

"You have a mate, don't you?"

Reaching nervously for another oyster, Aziraphale knocked the dish and it toppled into the floor, oysters going everywhere. The chatter of the restaurant paused. All eyes on them. Crowley slouched on, slurping as if nothing happened.

Aziraphale hurried to collect the spilled seafood but before he could start, Crowley snapped his fingers and the mess was undone.

Aziraphale looked around. No one in Patronus's restaurant seemed to remember his embarrassing commotion. He sat back down. Crowley was still sitting with his elbows on the table, waiting pointedly for the answer.

"The war," Aziraphale said, guardedly. "The destruction, the fighting, the loss, it all… got in the way."

"Ah," comprehension dawned on the demon's face. "Yeah. Well. You're better off, I'd say. Shackled to some righteous bird brain for all eternity?" he shuddered dramatically and drew in a breath, grinning across the table at him. "Sounds like a nightmare."

"I disagree."Aziraphale murmured. "Sometimes shackles can be… desirable." 

Crowley choked on a slurp of oyster.


	4. Chapter 4

"Oi, angel, if you do me a favor, I'll owe ya a big one." This was the way Crowley greeted Aziraphale one day at the park in 1800-and-something. A July afternoon.

"I don't do the big temptations, Crowley. We've been through this."

"It's not a temptation, just a super quick, very inconsequential, really quite minor… reconnaissance mission."

"A what?"

"Just go in, find the file, come back out. How hard can it be?"

"Get a human to do it."

"Unfortunately, the only humans who can get in are the kind that wouldn't steal. And I'd have no exit strategy for them."

"Are you talking about heaven?"

"No, I'm talking about Victoria's bedroom, yes I'm talking about heaven!"

"What file?"

"The Soulmates register. There must be one."

"I couldn't possibly!"

"Listen, Hell has taken a vote and everyone wants to know who they belong with."

"Did you just say Hell has taken a vote?"

"Yes, and it was pretty damned unanimous. Just because we're demons we aren't allowed to know our mates? Bit harsh, innit it?"

"The Fallen are all damned, Crowley. To an eternity of torture! Where in that description does it say the unholy fiends shall have time to go frolicking about with their true mates?"

"Frolicking? Nah, come on. You're overthinking it, angel. We just want to know who it would be most fun for us to fuck. And sure we could probably figure it out on our own but who wants to put in that kind of work? So we figure stealing one little file is better than implementing Speed Dating Tuesday's or something lame like that."

Aziraphale cracked up laughing despite himself. Demon speed dating. _Crowley_ speed dating.

"There isn't a soulmates register, Crowley. I'm sorry."

Crowley made a noise like baaaahhh, "I don't believe you. Has to be written down somewhere."

"And it is. Lots of somewheres, to be exact."

"What do you mean?"

"Halos, Crowley. The Almighty inscribed the name of our mates on the inside of our halos."

Crowley's expression fell. "Ah."

"And since you all…"

"Yes. Er. Got it. No need to go on."

Aziraphale reached over and laid a hand on Crowley's. "You aren't alone, my friend."

"You didn't get a chance to look at yours before it was blown off?"

"I was seconds too late. Woke up at the end of the war all alone..."

"Well, then, I think we should drink. Don't you?"

***

When Crowley wanted to stop the apocalypse, Aziraphale saw his soulmate working hard to save everyone. A good sign, right? And God had said to save Crowley at all costs. So why not at the cost of the Great Plan? It made sense to him.

Attempting to speak to God directly on the matter failed. For some mysterious reason, God was screening her calls these days.

Aziraphale would just have to follow his heart. And his heart said to protect Crowley and to help him be Good. That was what soulmates were for--For Good. 

After Not Armageddon, Crowley had slowly moved a jungle of vibrant beautiful greenery into the shop, filling in any and every sunny spot with a patch of paradise. He then spent something like 10 hours each day in snake form, sleeping on various heating rocks hidden throughout the plant life. 

Sleeping, sleeping, sleeping. Cowley loved to sleep. He said laying in a sunny patch was the reason he'd fought so hard to save the universe. Can't have a sunny patch without the sun.

Aziraphale always gave Crowley's silky black scales a scritch if he walked by wherever he lay coiled during business hours. Regulars loved "the new pet" but quickly learned not to bother him. He struck his fangs at more than one handsy book lover, resulting in miraculous near misses.

Life was a series of quiet moments, intimate hours, every kind of kiss, bickering and laughing, drinking and petting.

And then Gabriel stuck his nose into it.

The pretentious archangel appeared one day in the shop, as they knew he eventually would, but Aziraphale wasn't prepared for the enemy to know exactly where to poke his sharp stick of discord.

“Go away," Crowley said lazily from where he sat in human form with his feet up. "He doesn’t work for you anymore. He’s his own boss.”

Gabriel snorted and said, "He's always working for us, demon. No matter what he's telling you."

"Gabriel," Aziraphale said haughtily, "Crowley is right." he squared his shoulders. "I am my own boss now."

"So you've given up on the mission?"

Aziraphale paled.

"The mission that we issued you that body for? If you're not working for us, we're going to need it back."

"He's still influencing people for good, so God's happy with him. The bureaucratic nightmare that is the rest of heaven can just shove off."

"His mission isn't 'influencing humanity'," Gabriel snorted in his most condescending way. "It was only _you_ he was meant to influence."

Crowley's smile fell. Aziraphale tried to speak but didn't have a voice. Gabriel continued. "That's why you fucked up all your missions as a demon, snake boy. Because he tricked you into half assing your day job. We've been one step ahead of Hell this whole time. Because God knew your weak spot so we capitalized on it." Gabriel smiled with feigned innocence, "OK. Tootles." He teleported away.

Aziraphale felt a house of cards 6,000 years tall oh so silently collapse around him.

The betrayal on Crowley's face was almost too much to bear. "Weak spot?" he hissed. "What's he mean, weak spot?"

Aziraphale could lie but that would undo centuries of progress. "H-He said it in the cruelest way possible, but--"

"What weak spot?" Crowley cut in, stone still and pale.

"Soulmates," Aziraphale said, voice small.

Crowley closed his eyes and turned away. 

"No," he shook his head, "No. We lost our mates in the war. Both of us.”

“I never said that. You only assumed, and if I told the truth too soon then none of this would have worked.”

"None of this would have worked? Telling me the truth would have ruined it? I thought we were friends! I thought we shared--stuff. How could my true mate tell such a big lie to me for so long?"

"It wasn't a lie. Not all of it. I love you. I'd do anything for you."

"I don't know what to believe anymore, angel."

"All this time I've been nothing but a mission to you."

" _My_ mission! _I_ am the one that devised it!"

"What's that got to do with it? How does that make it better?"

"Because it was never part of the war effort! You must believe me! I pitched the idea to God, and She gave me the green light. So we wouldn't be alone anymore."

Crowley turned away with fingers beneath his glasses. A sob burst out of him. The sound wrenched Aziraphale's heart. He got his arms around Crowley, who tried to escape by morphing into snake form. 

"Stay, my love, please--" he begged.

Crowley froze mid morph. Still man-shaped but slightly scaly and fanged. His tongue flicked with a hiss that said it all. Aziraphale spoke with a low, firm voice of absolute conviction,

"Dear boy, would you have done it differently in my place? Given half the chance to know your soulmate, wouldn't you have taken it? I was permitted to try to save you at any cost. At any cost, She said."

Crowley's scales began to slowly dissipate. He sagged in Aziraphale's arms. "You were prepared to fall if it came to it?"

The same acid reflux that always bubbled when he considered the possibility burned his throat and he gulped. "Yes. I've been on a precipice for 6000 years. Just to know you. Sometimes…" Aziraphale looked around the leafy bookshop, and the great wide world beyond the windows. "Sometimes I catch myself thinking She created this place just for us."

"Ngk," Crowley turned in his arms and kissed the living daylights out of him. Aziraphale happily explored the narrow ribcage and petite hips, discerning Crowley's chosen gender of the moment. When he wiggled a thigh between Crowley's legs to better tease him, Crowley gasped. He seemed less angry now, and heated. "You're my mate."

Heart thudding Aziraphale nodded. "Can't you feel it?"

"Yes but--nngh," he huffed, "thought I was ridiculous--"

Aziraphale held him by the ears. "You're mine, Crowley."

He shuddered. "My true name. If you say it--"

"Yes?" Aziraphale prompted. This was the only thing about Crowley he did not know. The only thing keeping them from being the united pair they were meant to be.

Crowley swallowed hard, looking down. "We'd bond... But do we have to, angel?"

This sat Aziraphale back on his heels. He blinked. "I've yearned for it."

Crowley shook again and Aziraphale forgot his own trouble instantly. The disappointment wasn't half as bad as whatever was scaring Crowley. "Darling?"

"What if what we have… is better than a bond?"

Aziraphale was utterly confused. What could be better than a soul bond?

Crowley squirmed, uncomfortable. Risking everything by asking questions--again. "Dunno. Look. There's a difference between _finding_ a soulmate and being given one. Isn't there?"

Aziraphale shook his head. "But think what wonders are to be had when we are one as She intended."

"I don't have to think, angel." he sounded more certain now. He finally looked Aziraphale in the face. "I've already felt that. And so've you. We have the connection and it wasn't some quick link from On High. _We_ built this relationship ourselves. Together, over time. No one else can say that."

What a devastatingly charming thought. Aziraphale grinned. "You're right"

Crowley's ease returned as if it never left. "Course I am. What we have is about eleven times better than anything else in the universe. It's important. It's, it's _art_. It's the _point_ , innit?"

Aziraphale grinned. "Oh how I adore when you are worked up about something. So passionate."

They kissed, fingers lacing through hair, tongues sliding sensually. The bookshop door miraculously locked and shades lowered demonically. Crowley paused the kisses and headed for the nearest plush surface. The wiggle in his hips as he stripped made Aziraphale ache.

"You know I think you're right." Crowley said, glancing over his shoulder coyly. His grin was crooked. "She gave us the world."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coda:
> 
> "So you said to God, 'let me go down and be with him, show him love and through loving me, he'll love You'."
> 
> "More or less.
> 
> "...so you gave God the idea for Jesus."
> 
> "Well. Well Fuck. I think I did…. I'll be damned."


End file.
